


Everyday a Little Death

by Zucchini999



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Child Neglect, Dragons, M/M, Magic, Past Child Abuse, Thomas Roman and Patton are brothers, Virgil has an older sister
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 02:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17133509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zucchini999/pseuds/Zucchini999
Summary: Based on the animatic on YouTube by altruistic skittles.Virgil is the heir to the Isle of Storms. The only problem? His older sister wants the throne for herself.Patton is the youngest of the three princes of Starlight. His oldest brother, Thomas, is helping their sick father rule the kingdom. His other brother, Roman, wants to be a knight. Patton? He just wants to enjoy life.





	Everyday a Little Death

“Help the queen!” cried the king.  
The guards standing outside the door of their chamber rushed inside and lifted the queen, placing her on the bed. One of the guards ran out of the room, presumably looking for a physician.  
The king looked back at the queen when she screamed. His gaze travelled to the bed upon seeing a spreading darkness. He grabbed her hand, not knowing any ways to relieve her pain. The physician came running in, closely followed by a puffing guard and two maids. One carried towels and the other carried a large blanket.  
“This may take a while. It would be best if you leave.”  
The king looked at the physician. His wife was in pain, he had no idea what was going on and this hooligan thought he’d leave his wife. “I think that I’ll stay.”  
The physician visibly cowered under the steel gaze of the king but kept quiet, accepting the fact that the king would not move. When the queen screamed again, the physician burst into action. He had brought his toolkit and set it on the bed next to the queen’s feet.  
“What’s happening?” a guard asked.  
“She’s giving birth,” was the short reply from the physician.  
The king’s head snapped around. His wife was giving birth. He would finally know if he had a son, an heir.  
The maids helped the queen out of her heavy dress, so that the physician had better access to the baby. They rolled her onto her side, so that they could untie her corset. Breathing thanks, the queen gasped and winced again, unable to ease the pain.  
An hour had passed and the king had grown bored. His excitement about the gender of his kid had grown less. He just wanted that child out. Seeing the physician gesture for his wife to push, he left the room.  
Hours passed and the king entered the room. He was expecting to see his wife still gasping for air and grimacing, but when he opened the door he froze. His wife was sitting upright, holding a bundle of blankets and cooing gently. He looked around the room, trying to spot the physician but to no avail. He walked to his wife and held out his arms. She gently placed the baby in his arms but had a scared look on her face. The king thought nothing of it, thinking that she was worried he was going to drop the baby. He starting unwrapping the blanket, eager to see if it was a son, but stopped once again when he saw the genitalia.   
“You gave me a daughter?” he said, his tone had all the evidence of an uncontrolled rage barely contained.  
“I can’t help it. I can’t control the gender of the baby!” the queen cried, scared that her husband would do something to the baby.  
“What use is a daughter? How am I meant to teach her to control armies? How to strategize? What am I meant to do with someone who doesn’t understand?” the king started yelling, and with him, his daughter starting screaming.  
“SHUT UP!” the king bellowed, effectively making the baby scream louder.  
He practically threw the baby at the queen and walked away, making her gasp and fling her arms out to catch her.  
“What did you call the wench anyway?” he growled.  
“Mara. Her name is Mara.”  
The king was unimpressed. He turned back to the queen. “I will allow you to recover, but you will give me a son.”  
The queen nodded solemnly. She knew this was going to happen. She knew that her husband would rather she die if it meant that their son, if they had one, would live. She sighed and went back to calming down Mara. 

Three years had passed and King Deimos of The Isles of Storms had grown angrier. His wife had been unable to carry children, so still had yet to give him a son. Mara was three and believed that she was going to be queen, unaware that her father wanted a son to have the throne after him. He still wasn’t sure what to think of her, other than she was more like him than his wife, Queen Cecilia. Mara was headstrong, stubborn and her tones often held little room for negotiation. But still, Deimos yearned for a boy. And he did get a boy, after two more years of waiting, his wife delivered him a baby boy, whom he instantly named Virgil. Virgil was a quiet baby, more like Cecilia than Deimos, but Deimos didn’t mind. He had a son that he could teach to lead armies and fight. He had a son he could be proud of but he no longer cared about his daughter. Mara grew bitter towards her brother. She forced herself to hate him. She hated him because he was a boy and she wasn’t. She hated him because he didn’t want to be king but would be. She hated him because it was his fault. All his fault.

**Author's Note:**

> This is originally posted on Tumblr. New chapters will be posted their first.


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